


No sure bets

by empires



Series: Death Belongs to Me [1]
Category: DCU, DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Supernatural Elements, backwards spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason is forcibly approached by the physical embodiment of balance with a warning: serve me faithfully as you swore in death or you will eliminated. Jason never did do well with ultimatums.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No sure bets

Jason Todd, former Robin, current Red Hood, and all-round badass, is having one hell of a Saturday night. It started off well, uneventful, with a harsh winter wind keeping most Gothamites indoors. He’s managed to thwart a burglary and pull a few names and dates for a smuggling ring he’s tracking. Then he’d been attacked by a snowman.

Okay, so it isn’t actually a snowman. It’s more like a snow-spattered rock wall that is agile as fuck. Relentless, unyielding, the thing has been stalking him and no amount of bullets or explosions seem to slow it down. After another ten minutes of dodging a barrage of frozen rock and one too many hard landings on the cold concrete, Jason decides it’s time to take a different approach.

“You’ve made your point,” he calls, rolling to his knees. “I’ll put ‘em up.” He puts his hands up pistols swinging down on his fingers and places them at his knees. He’s still a threat—this is his section of city and he’ll fight for it—but he’s no longer threatening.

The five foot slab of rocky-slush stops advancing. Its body begins to elongate, first up, then out, and finally begins to spin in fanlike motion. In the center of the whirling mass appeared a small hole that begins to lengthen. This metamorphosis brings home the fact that this thing, whatever it is, is not Clayface like he first assumed. The hole widens further revealing an unending void of starlight, the red fires of an inner sun.

Gotham, no stranger to unreality, has experienced all manner of bizarre sights. Jason has also witnessed enough strangeness to surprise even the most jaded anti-hero. But he can say that he’s never seen anything like the figures that step from the bright light onto the dirty warehouse floor.

Two creatures stand tall with long, attenuated limbs that reminded him about art class. The white stretch of frozen skin that hangs loose around the shoulder bellies resembles the dirty slurry of snow that spread over the streets and sidewalks. Their heads are covered by a translucent film that covers any obvious facial features. Jason preferred beings with discernable facial features. It made reading movement a little easier and he needed some kind of edge right now. Eyes, a mouth, hell, even a mouth would be good right now.

The closer they get the more Jason tell that he’s in trouble. He should have taken the rock creature to the rooftops instead of deeper inside the crumbling warehouse district. Up top, he might have been spotted by part of his estranged family, and a much as he hates to admit it, Jason can use some back up right now.

The creatures grab his wrists and the one on his left slips the razor-edged knife from between his fingers and folds the blade in its frozen hand. There’s a pulse of compressed air and smoke rises from its fist. The thing snuffed the tiny explosive without effort. Then it pushes Jason forward with his arms twisted tight against his back. Every slow breath he takes twinges the tendons in his shoulders and neck.

He is so screwed.

“Don’t look so worried kid.”

Jason snaps his head up.

The third figure stepping into Jason’s field of view is human. Or at least looks like a middle-aged man with greying temples, rounded shoulders, and a prominent nose rounded. Wearing a suite forty years out of fashion and tilting accent, he resembles the mafia’s glory days. Like the guy stepped out of a Gotham when every car in the street was new and the city streets were organized just like the city council, the traffic, and the crime.

“At least don’t look so worried about me and my boys.”

“I’m wearing a mask,” says Jason. “I’m looking like nothing to you.”

“That’s right, that’s right. You’re ‘Red Hood’ now. Unexpected but you definitely look sharp, kid. I can see why you can’t let it go. We’ll have to work on that. The name’s Lyle, if you were wondering.” Lyle points to his eyes which are white. The iris and pupil are indistinguishable from the light that glows within. “And I can see you, Jason Peter Todd, inside and out, through and through.”

Jason ignores the casual reveal of his identity like he ignores the pain in his ribs and the etchings marked in the shining pendant around Lyle’s neck. They’re important details that he’ll mull over later. If there is a later. “What do you want?”

“A lot of things, especially where you’re concerned. But it all starts with you remembering.” He raps his knuckles on the red mask. “Consider this reunion my way of jogging that noggin.”

Lyle isn’t one for details it seems, because he just crosses his arms and waits for Jason to magically know what the hell he’s talking about.

A twinge of pain in his shoulders suggests Jason humor the idea. He pokes at the nebulous gray memories and dark spots in his mind, but nothing immediately jumps at him. “What am I supposed to be remembering?”

“The most important moment of your existence, kid. And I’m hurt that we didn’t make an impression back then. You know. Back on the other side before you crossed into the living realm.”

Jason forces his body to remain relaxed. No deep exhalation, now stiffening, nothing to reveal how deeply those whispered words resonated within him. “You were there?”

“Kid, I’m the one who sent you back.”

Behind the mask, Jason’s eyes narrow. Then his body explodes into motion, wrists slipping free of the creatures’ grasp. He leaps forward, a stiletto blade slashing where Lyle once stood. He whirls around pistol firing. The problem is nothing connects. Jason cuts through the air gracefully, dominant hand precise with his knife, right hand quick to cross over as he squeezes shot after shot. Lyle doesn’t even appear to be dodging. He simply walks in a circle. He’s a foot away from the blade, a stuttered pause from a bullet in the gut.

Basically, Jason is getting nowhere.

“Looking good, kid, looking good,” Lyle says stepping backwards. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. The brand is something that hasn’t existed in almost twenty years. “All that training made you better than before. Still got a long way to go though.”

“I got more than enough to get through to you,” Jason snaps.

“Is that so?” says Lyle, voice mild. He brings his hands together.

Light flares around the entire warehouse blinding Jason which haha, he didn’t see coming. He’s blinking back oily tears when he feels a heavy silence rumbling toward him. Shit! The two constructs lumbered into both side of Jason with all the power of freight train. They twist his hands back for a second time and then press him to kneel. The ground cracks under the pressure.

Jason struggles this time, shouts through the pain as his shoulder pops.

“We’re wasting time here,” says Lyle.

The only thing that stops Jason, the only thing that calms the rage that flashed through his body, is the way this Lyle guy flicks his eyes to the clouded windows like he’s searching. He’s worried about something that isn’t Jason. The detail isn’t something he can use now, but it’s enough to make him shift back onto his heels, let the tension ease from his body.

“So talk,” he says.

“Don’t you got nothing to ask me? It’s what humans do. Who am I? Why am I here? What’s the other one?” Lyle takes a drag on his cigarette. His free hand waves next to his temple beckoning the words to appear.

One of the frozen constructs moans. The sound is a clear E flat.

“That’s the one.” He exhales a plume of white smoke. “What’s the meaning of it all? You ain’t curious?”

“I’ve had a lot of people tell me that the past is the past and the present is what you can shape. So, maybe I’m curious but I don’t need to know?” says Jason. “Not really.”

“This is about the future, though. Your future. I get it though. You’re stubborn. This one could have happiness standing in front of him and he wouldn’t know how to ask for it.

The creatures moan out another sound in frozen harmony. Jason gets the feeling that it’s laughter.

“The long and the short of it is this: there are all kinds of forces in the universe but none are more constant than the circle of life and death. Except for this universe. Assholes pop in and out of the pot faster than mad lobsters, something you know about, right?” Lyle grins, tipping ash to the ground. It begins to swirl, gently at first, then faster until the glittering embers and shadows resemble the place that Lyle stepped out. The cold heat of the place washes over Jason and for a moment, he can almost recognize the feeling. “But even life and death has their opposing force. That’d be entropy and chaos, balance and justice.

“I’m the balance, kid. You were supposed to come back here and walk the earth for me. Swore an oath even, on your name and the pride you had protecting this city of yours. Seems like you got a little distracted on the way back from the otherside, though. It took me a long time to find you.”

Jason looks up to find Lyle’s white eyes on him and knows none of this is a lie.

He hadn’t expected that revelation although, but considering the path of his life, maybe he should have. All he seems to do now is reel from a moment of personal crisis to half-assed triumph and back again. Plucked from the alleys to do good in the face of a deepening tide of evil, trained to bring the gift of death by monks whose roots were drenched in evil as old as the sun, and now revealed to have been brought from the otherside to provide balance for some reason that he forgot—his life is one tragic adventure story. And the universe seems to be okay with that, seems to be encouraging that within him. It’s sad enough to make him laugh. So he does, long and loud, bitter amusement welling up from his belly. He laughs so hard his lungs tremble.

“Sorry,” Jason coughs. “Sorry. It’s just that, you know. Mystic forces recruiting me to do their dirty work is just getting a little old.”

“Oh, I get it. But there ain’t nothing mystic about us, kid. We’re older than magic, birthed from time and charged with making sure this dynamic universe we got continues to be a greater whole. That’s where you come in. I still want you with me. Every step down that road you’re on and every choice you make, no matter how difficult, has made you into something your world needs. The problem is, all that good you done wasn’t in my name, and now we’re behind.” Lyle nods over his shoulder. “And they’re gonna come after you now.”

“Why?”

“Why not? It happens when the world is out of balance.”

“So that’s it? I either join you or they come after me?” Jason tilts his head at thing one and thing two holding him down. “Neither option looks good from where I’m sitting.”

“Oh, yeah. Let’em go, boys.” Lyle waves his hand and they release Jason. “They’re gonna come after you no matter what you decide, kid. You got my mark, and your light of yours is something to see. Only way to fix this is to bring back balance.”

Jason pushes up to his feet massaging the feeling back into his arms. “I still don’t see why this is my problem.”

“Ah, kid. I could spit shit like ‘emissaries’ and ‘heretics’ at you ‘til the sky turns black, but would you listen? Do you ever listen to anyone?” He smiles. “It’s what I like about you. But you are well fucked because of it.”

“And what would I have to do?”

“Go out there under my banner and keep doing what you’ve been doing. It’s easy.”

Beneath the hood, Jason’s expression flattens. He’s not impressed and he’s not buying. “I’m going to have to pass on your offer. I’m sorry if I, you know, if I’m breaking my oath, but I got way too much going on right now to enter another battle between good and evil.”

Lyle’s face pinches up when he takes his final drag from the cigarette. His skin is notched with pale lines that are near invisible against his translucent skin. He releases a slow sigh, then shrugs. “Okay then. We’ll scram.”

The portal or gateway to the otherside churns to life, bathing the entire warehouse in golden light that is so warm. If Jason closes his eyes, he could concentrate on the feel of it, on how he almost _remembers_ —

“But you won’t be sorry, kid. You’ll be dead.” Lyle is the only thing left in the room now and walks back into the portal, words tossed carelessly behind him. “Won’t be nothing I can do about it then.”


End file.
